


Love For You Is Larger Than Usual

by QuickSilverFox3



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Napping, Pining, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23752522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickSilverFox3/pseuds/QuickSilverFox3
Summary: “It’s going to be a beautiful day!” Faraday crowed, the bed dipping beneath his weight as he crashed down onto it, prying his boots off with a grunt of effort.“Don’t care,” Vasquez told him, shifting sideways and rolling over to allow Faraday to flop down next to him, relinquishing his hold on one blanket to the other man’s persistent pulling.-Vasquez just wants to sleep his hangover away. Faraday has other ideas.
Relationships: Joshua Faraday/Vasquez
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	Love For You Is Larger Than Usual

**Author's Note:**

> 30 (Holiday Fic) & 95 (Sleep Intimacy)

Vasquez groaned as sunlight illuminated the room, the noise almost masking the heavy swish of the curtain being thrown open.

“Guero, have you slept at all?” he called, words muffled by the pillow he dragged over his head, glaring out of the small gap, annoyingly and completely awake. The low hum of early morning traffic pulsed in his head, adding to the splitting pain behind his eyes, a beat designed to hurt him. 

Joshua didn’t seem to notice his suffering, his scuffed boots adding to the violent beat in Vasquez’s head as he danced his way across to the bed, casting long shadows with the almost ludicrous shift of his hips. On another day, it would be a delicious sight — but it wasn’t another day, it was now. 

The old feelings of anger coiled in Vasquez’s chest like a viper, solely directed towards his — what even were they? Friends? Boyfriends? Occasional fuck buddies? 

What they were defied classification somehow, as delicate as spider silk, unable to be named for fear of breaking it. 

Faraday never stayed the night, slipping out of Vasquez’s house when he thought the other man was asleep. After everything they had been through: the court cases; the fights; the terrifyingly long weeks sitting by Faraday’s bedside watching him grow paler and thinner until he was a shadow of his former self; the sheer delirious joy when he opened his eyes and called Vasquez a dickhead for crying on him, Faraday still couldn’t stay the night in Vasquez’s bed. 

“It’s going to be a beautiful day!” Faraday crowed, the bed dipping beneath his weight as he crashed down onto it, prying his boots off with a grunt of effort. 

“Don’t care,” Vasquez told him, shifting sideways and rolling over to allow Faraday to flop down next to him, relinquishing his hold on one blanket to the other man’s persistent pulling.

Faraday was warm and heavy next to him, one leg immediately hooking possessively over Vasquez’s hip, nose pressed against the back of his neck, breath hot and humid—

“Guero, are you still drunk?” 

“Might be,” Faraday mumbled, wriggling impossibly closer, a solid mass against Vasquez’s back.

“Saint Patricks day was three days ago.”

“Was it really?”

Faraday’s words were growing more slurred, barely moving away from Vasquez’s skin to speak, transitioning into kisses pressed into his skin as easily as breathing. An answering heat coiled in the pit of Vasquez’s stomach and he contemplated moving for a moment. He could respond to Faraday’s advances, return those heated kisses with his own, could press Faraday into his mattress and keep him there until they both were loose limbed and satisfied, only for Faraday to sneak away once more when he thought Vasquez was asleep. 

“I’m not in the mood cabron. Anyway, I’m celebrating my own holiday today.”

“Do you want me to move?”

“No. Staying there is fine.”

Faraday relaxed back down, one hand slipping beneath the pillow to play with Vasquez’s hair.

Vasquez sighed and closed his eyes. The sunlight was warm against his skin, and Faraday was a comfort to have in his bed, for as long as he could convince the other man to stay. Sleep began to wash over him again, in small ebbs and waves as he slowly drifted off—

“So what holiday are you celebrating?”

“Pendejo, I will punch your teeth out through your chest.”

Although he was loath to move, Vasquez knew better than to leave one of Faraday’s questions hanging unanswered. The yelp the other man gave when Vasquez accidentally elbowed him with his arm, as he stretched across to the small bedside table.

Red had bought him the small calendar. Or at least Vasquez thought it had been Red. He’d woken up sometime on what he thought was New Year's Day to see it on his nightstand — fluorescent red and yellow text that hurt his head even when he wasn’t hungover. But the youngest of their group always checked it whenever he was round, so Vasquez maintained it.

“Read,” Vasquez commanded, slapping the plastic calendar into what he thought was Faraday’s back. 

The bed dipped and shifted as Faraday moved, Vasquez’s nails digging into the pillow still pulled protectively over his head as his stomach rolled in response.

“National Napping Day?”

“Si.”

Vasquez’s mouth ran dry, a sudden wave of panic setting his nerves alight, a ringing in his ears.

“You can stay and celebrate with me if you want,” Vasquez offered. 

Silence followed his words. He’d never been more grateful for the pillow covering his head, concealing the heat in his cheeks from Faraday. Why was he acting like this, like a schoolboy with his first crush? He’d had sex with Faraday too many times to count and yet this was something else.

“A nap does sound good,” Faraday answered, sounding almost nervous, his words hesitant as he settled back into the bed. Vasquez wriggled back into his embrace with a sigh that morphed into a yawn fierce enough to crack his jaw.

When they woke up — and Faraday had downed a litre of water and had some good food made by Vasquez, not that processed shit he claimed was restorative — they would talk. But that was a problem for future Vasquez, so he slowly drifted off to sleep, hearing Faraday’s breath slow and settle, confident in the knowledge that he would still be there when Vasquez woke up.

**Author's Note:**

> [ My Tumblr!](https://inkformyblood.tumblr.com) Requests are always welcome!  
> [Trope mash up list!](https://inkformyblood.tumblr.com/post/615200731645050880/fanfiction-trope-mash-up)  
> 


End file.
